09/10/2025
THE OWL AND PAUL
In a dappled nook of leaf and vine,
Where sunbeams shyly fall,
I met a baby owl today
The roundest fuzzball of them all.
His eyes shone bright like marigolds,
Outlined in midnight ink,
He blinked at me, then chirped,
“Hello!
What brings you to my leafy rink?”
I sat upon a mossy log,
Delighted by his stare.
He fluffed his feathers, flapped his wings,
And ruffled forest air.
We talked of bugs and beetle snacks,
And how he'd soon take flight
He asked me why folks think that owls
Are wise as stars at night.
“Well, friend,” I said, “it’s in your eyes
The golden, glowing kind
And in the way you tilt your head
As if you read my mind.
”He giggled, “Hoo! You humans guess
That wisdom’s all in stare
But mostly, I just look this way
Because I’m growing hair!
”He winked and shrieked a tiny laugh,
“Perhaps it’s wise to know,
That being curious is best
And wisdom loves to grow.
”We parted with a secret wave,
A silent feathered cheer;
And now I know wise owls are born
To bring all joy and wonder near.
